Now It’s My Turn

Hi Everybody!

It’s Lizzie. Mason decided to take a little vay-cay from writing today (he said his brain needed a rest and that he wasn’t feeling inspired). I don’t know about that but it really has been a long time since I last wrote a blog, hasn’t it?

For a pug, my life is wonderful, filled with much happiness and love, even though Mason would argue about that. Mason doesn’t seem to understand that I really do wish him well and that my world is topsy-turvy when he is away or unwell. That E-collar business was awful! I know he accused me of being false, but that is untrue. I was so worried when he went to the doctor that when he returned, I tried to cover him with kisses, nuzzling, and love. He would have nothing to do with me as I sniffed his doctor office scent and tried to comfort him. He is always acting the tough guy but I know he really loves the attention. As far as my stealing his marrowbones, that is not true either. I was merely putting them in a safe place until his recovery. Since he couldn’t chew with that huge collar on his neck, I put them in my bed so he wouldn’t feel frustrated every time he saw them.

And when he had to visit the surgeon on Cape Cod, I was really worried and anxious…so much so that on the trip back to NYC, I jumped up on the new rolled up carpet in the car to be near Mom and Dad. I needed comfort and Mason just assumed I was trying take them away from him. Mason says I can make truth out of fiction, if it suits my purposes. I think that is mean and untrue. Mason is always seeing the worst in people and pets.

Oh well, the thing is Mason has recovered and doesn’t need surgery, which makes me very happy. I know he thinks I am an idiot and a silly goose, but so what? I do love our pug contest on Facebook, and I think all of you who have sent in photos are wonderful and beautiful and brave! I think you all are winners, despite Mason’s sour view of life. He means well but he can’t help being a grouch sometimes. I think it is a guy kind of thing. He says, “Lizzie, you need to go to the mailbox and get your reality check. It must be here today!” I have no idea what he means so I just keep a low profile and take a nap.

Thanks for listening…until next time

Pugs and kisses,

Lizzie

This was taken right before Mason's appointment with the surgeon. You can see my worried expression.

Pilgrim Pugs in PTown, or Where No Pug Is A Stranger

For those of you uninitiated to the pleasures and sheer delight of Provincetown, let me give you a pug’s eye view. This spectacular little town at the very tip of Cape Cod never fails to charm, seduce, and captivate both people and pugs. It is the repository of all things bizarre, wonderful, and indulgent. Here a pug can receive hugs and kisses from women who look like men and men who look like women.  In PTown all the lines are blurred and a pug can truly receive the attention, love, and adulation he so rightfully deserves! It is also the most pet friendly place on the planet.

We drove out Sunday, and while the weather wasn’t terribly encouraging, we all knew fun was about to be had. Lizzie and I napped in the car while Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa had brunch at the Lobster Pot on Commercial Street. For Mom it is her favorite journey. After they were finished we were fetched for the traditional stroll up Commercial Street. The street was thronged with revelers who were undaunted by the steady rain. For a pug, this is a tricky condition. One must navigate carefully or risk getting stepped upon. Of course the air is filled with the scent of seafood, fried bread, fudge, and ice cream…an intoxicating cocktail for yours truly.

Along the way we received the usual attention from every sort of human imaginable. Dogs were everywhere and there was a lot of butt-sniffing and circling. Our first stop was the pet store, where Mom purchased darling iced dog cookies for us, which we ate outside on their little platform. As we moved along, we attracted many admiring looks, responses, and pats. What a glorious day, but I fear not for the reluctant Lizzie. She, as I’ve stated before, has no game and never will. People and other dogs like her because she is so tiny and saccharine, which nauseates me. One woman told my grandmother that she knew immediately that I was “the man” because she had never seen such a swagger or such a “butch” dog. I rest my case, dear reader.

 I will be writing daily, I think, since so much is happening here and Grandma is so accessible. With so much exposure, I hope you don’t lose interest in my ramblings.

Respectfully submitted,

Mason

Here Lizzie and I are wedged in MY bed. She grabbed it when we got in the car for the return trip, so I just climbed in too! The nerve of that fool dog!

 

I know, it's not a shot of me but I thought for those of you unfamiliar with low tide in PTown, it is worth a look.

TGMGC, or Thank God My Grandma’s Coming

Do you remember in Mary Poppins, how the chimney sweep announced the arrival of a new strong wind, blowing from a different direction, which served as a metaphor for Mary Poppins’ appearance at the Banks household? Well, dear reader, the same analogy pertains for the upcoming arrival of my grandma this weekend. She, like Mary Poppins, brings much needed change into our little household and of course, a great traveling bag (see my entry “Pugs and Kisses For Grandma, Jan. 2009).

 Because I am a thinking pug, as well as a highly sensitive one, I am aware of the whispered conversations concerning Grandma’s upcoming visit. Lizzie, however, sheltered within her cocoon of oblivion and insensitivity, hasn’t a clue. I have been mentally composing a wish list of Grandma treats for this visit…something with yams, duck, or buffalo…or maybe a yummy knucklebone from the butcher. I know that Grandma will sweep me up in her arms, exclaiming over my beauty, smothering me with hugs and kisses that I will patiently endure, while waiting for the presentation of gifts. This will be further delayed because Lizzie also will have to be fussed over, which will take even longer because that fool dog actually loves this part the most! During this, I will strike a pose with my tight little tail twitching wildly, eyes beseechingly glued to Grandma’s face, while sending subliminal messages for her to put Lizzie down and dig into that bag of treats. Fortunately for me, Grandmas reads and understands signals well. She will look at me and say something like, “Does my little Mason man want his treat now?” And I will begin twirling around and vibrating all over, with eyes bulging dangerously. Just seeing her reach into the treat bag nearly sends me over the edge.

 This is how I have lulled myself to sleep each night this week, replaying that most perfect of moments and all of the foreplay leading up to it. Ah, Grandma, please get here safely and quickly Friday.

 

Respectfully submitted,

 Mason

 

Could any grandma resist this face? I think not!